The Vixen Affairs
by M. Willow
Summary: A journey into another life could spell trouble for the agents.
1. part 1

The Vixen Affairs

By M. Willow

Part One

**Chapter 1**

It was a car accident that ended the life of Vixen. One moment she had been sitting in a dark, smoky bar and the next she was laying dead on the streets. Her life had been eventful. She was what they called a playgirl—the type of woman who enjoyed the company of men.

A raven-haired beauty, her looks were what some men called smoldering. She favored black leather and satin made to show off a figure most women would envy. Vixen had few women friends. Most who claimed to be her friend only did so because of the number of men that surrounded her and Vixen didn't mind sharing. When she was done with a man, she moved on and scarcely remembered his name. That is until Walter Abrams came along.

Abrams was different from the rest of Vixen's lovers—he was an intellect. He was an electronics and computer expert who liked to invent things. His hobby was cryptography. Abrams taught at a university in his spare time, but he hardly needed the money—his father had left him a sizable fortune when he had died ten years ago.

Vixen had never known an intellectual so she fell hard for Abrams, listening to him talk for hours at a time. And he liked to talk. With her photographic memory, Vixen could almost remember every word he spoke, but now she lay dead in the street and Abrams had disappeared.

**Chapter 2**

April sat staring at Waverly in UNCLE headquarters. The old man had summoned her early in the day. Now she was in his office along with Napoleon and the old man had made a request of her. "I want you to impersonate Vixen. No, I want you to become Vixen."

"How is that possible, Mr. Waverly. Although I admit April bears a strong resemblance to Vixen, anyone who knows Vixen wouldn't be fooled." Napoleon said.

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Solo. With the right hair color and makeup, April could fool even the most discerning individual. We have ascertained the whereabouts of Abrams. He is currently living on a private island."

"Surely, he will notice my voice is different, my mannerisms," April added.

"That will be taken care of. I've hired a coach who was an acquaintance of Miss McCall. He is willing to coach you on some of her finer details."

April took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She had read Vixen's dossier that morning. It was going to be a challenge to become Vixen. The woman was so different from April.

Waverly had Vixen's photograph displayed on the large screen in his office. Vixen was posed in a skin-tight black satin gown. She was a seductress with her smoldering dark eyes and a sexy pout that would melt any man she came in contact with. She was a playgirl who had slept her way through most of America's high society and was on her way to Europe. April wondered how she could ever impersonate a woman like that. April was quiet and reserved by comparison. It was a fact that she hid from everyone but those closest to her. April had been reared by strict parents and attended Catholic schools for most of her childhood. The fact that she had chosen to become a spy had presented problems for her in the past whenever she was required to pretend to be women that would surely have reddened the faces of most nuns. Still, acting lessons had made it easier.

April straightened in her seat and locked eyes with Napoleon. She could tell he didn't want her to do it. "Are you asking me to sleep with Abrams, sir?"

"I would never presume to request that of any agent, Miss Dancer." The old man cleared his throat and continued, "It is imperative that UNCLE gets that key. Our intelligence has indicated the key is locked in a safe on his island estate. We will need to ascertain exactly where it is held on that estate and get it. This key could prove invaluable in our endeavour to rid the world of Thrush."

"Is Abrams a member of Thrush?" Napoleon asked.

"No, Mr. Solo,"

"Then why can't we simply ask for it, sir?

"Have done and Mr. Abrams gracefully declined. He does not want to be involved in our 'little war'. His words, not mine. He merely broke the code to prove that he could do so."

"That brings up another point. How did Abrams get the code in the first place?" Solo asked.

"Mister Abrahams has friends who are members of Thrush. He apparently received the code from one of them during a…shall I say… moment of inebriation. And that is where Vixen comes in." The old man cleared his throat and stood before the screen with Vixen's picture.

"Miss McCall had a photographic memory and Mr. Abrams bragged to her when he discovered the key to the code. He told her how he broke the code. Miss McCall contacted us when she realized the type of information he had. Unfortunately, her life ended at the hands of a drunk driver."

Solo looked intently at Waverly as the old man lit his pipe. The smoke swirled into the air and wafted across the room.

"Her death. Are you sure it was a drunk driver?" Solo asked.

"Quite. We've had it checked," Waverly answered.

"So young," April said absently, looking at the picture of Vixen.

"Yes. Most unfortunate."

April brought her attention back to Waverly. "Sir, how do you expect me to spend time with Abrams without compromising myself?" April asked.

Waverly inhaled deeply and let the smoke out slowly as he spoke. "Simple. Your feminine charms will not be necessary in this case, Miss Dancer. Their relationship was not sexual. In fact, Miss McCall had numerous lovers at the time she was seeing Abrams. She was even known to bring her lovers to stay with him in his many homes."

Napoleon cleared his throat. "And the fact that Miss McCall had lovers was of no concern to Abrams?"

"Precisely, Mr. Solo. My intelligence indicates that he has many cameras throughout each of his estates. I daresay he sought his entertainment in that way. Miss McCall did not appear to have a problem with this arrangement."

Napoleon looked at the dark-haired beauty on the screen. "I find that hard to believe, sir. What man could resist a woman like that?"

"This man, Mr. Solo. And that's all we're interested in."

The room was silent as April contemplated her decision. The old man said he would not force her to take the assignment. Yet, who else could pretend to be Vixen. Her resemblance to the dark-haired woman was uncanny. They looked like twins.

"I'll do it, sir."

**Chapter 3**

April was enjoying the weekend at the Victorian house Solo had purchased the previous t year. Both agents considered the house a second home—a place to get away from the harsh life they lead. April needed the break before becoming someone else. Both knew it was going to be a difficult job. Abrahms was an intelligent man. In order to convince him that she was Vixen, she would have to be very convincing.

The old man had decided to assign Solo as Vixen's current lover. Solo had refused the offer at first, explaining to Waverly the difficulties of successfully pretending to be the lover of a woman he considered family. Waverley had made it clear that Solo and Dancer's personal relationship was of no importance. Indeed, he expressed his disdain for personal relationships between agents. In the end, Waverly had made it an order and Solo had reluctantly agreed.

Now, both agents sat holding hands as they watched the sunset—its yellow-orange colors casting a haze across the town of OakWood. Anyone witnessing the two agents on the porch would have thought them lovers, but they merely sought the comforting touch of the other. This assignment made them nervous as no other had in the past. Solo was aware that the woman who sat next to him was a shy reserved lady who only pretended to be the outward super spy everyone expected her to be. The strain of that role was sometimes insurmountable. She was the first female agent and all eyes were on her.

"I don't like it April. I don't like you having to go undercover like this. I've done it. I know how deep you can go, until you can barely find yourself."

April grasped Napoleon hands tighter. "I know, but you won't let me." April said this with a tone that left no room for argument.

Napoleon relaxed into the swing, his eyes intently looking at the sunset. "How am I going to pretend to be your lover? You're my best friend, family." He said slowly.

"And that will never change." April added, snuggling closer to him. Napoleon put his arms around her. "Napoleon, the person I am going to become will be different from the woman you know. You'll be able to pretend because I won't be April. You'll react to me as if I'm Vixen."

"I don't know if I can do that," Napoleon said.

"You will. You're the consummate professional and I need you. I feel...I feel…that I'll get lost in this one. I may need for you to bring me back," April said quietly.

Napoleon could feel the tension in her body.

"Turn around," Napoleon ordered.

April hesitated. "Come on. Turn around. You're tense," Napoleon insisted.

April turned and Napoleon proceeded to massage her neck. He spoke soothingly. "I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

April relaxed into Napoleon, his arms surrounding her. They stayed that way until the sun disappeared and the silver moon took its place.

**Chapter 4**

"No. No. No. You got it wrong again. She slinked, not stumped. Here let me show you."

Roy Coxton walked across April's office with a feminine gait. He had been hired by Waverly to instruct April on the ways of Vixen. He had been acquainted with Vixen for a number of years, but not as a lover as originally thought. Instead, he was her close confidant and fashion designer.

Roy Coxton was a flamboyant man with his bright red shirt and green pants. He had a high forehead, silver-gold hair and a nose that resembled a beak. Roy was a man of high principles. He literally believed in the betterment of man and saw UNCLE as the only way of achieving it. He was gratified when UNCLE asked his assistance in obtaining the key.

April stood up and mimicked the way Coxton walked. She did it badly and he let her know it in no uncertain terms.

"Come now. This won't do. Watch me. Watch me," he shouted.

"I am watching you. I've been watching you for the past two weeks. I can't do it. I can't" April shouted, sitting down heavily in her chair.

"Well, you must. Abrams is not a fool, dear." Coxton's face was red with anger.

"Well, I just want to go home and get some rest. That's all." April shouted back.

She had never been so tired of trying to be Vixen. She was tired of hearing how Vixen lived. How Vixen fixed her hair. How Vixen changed her name from Mary Margaret because it reminded her of a nun and she was certainly no nun. But most of all, April was tired of not being herself and she was a dismal failure at becoming Vixen. Two weeks and she still sounded like April. She still walked like April. She was just April and nothing so far had changed that. Waverly had expressed his disappointment even suggesting that she may have been intentionally avoiding the assignment.

As if on cue, Napoleon arrived. "I'm here to rescue you, fair lady." He said gallantly offering his arm.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." April replied smiling as she stood.

"Then my carriage awaits." Napoleon said as April walked towards him.

"Wait a minute. What's all this talk about carriages? We've got hours to go. Weeks by the looks of her. So far the only thing that resembles Vixen is the dyed black hair. No, tell your carriage to go." Coxton insisted.

Napoleon stepped forward, his eyes steely. Coxton took an involuntary step backwards, then spoke quietly, "I…I…didn't mean to offend. By all means, she needs a break..."

Napoleon broke into a broad smile. "I thought you would see it my way."

He and April left the gymnasium arm in arm.


	2. Part 2

The Vixen Affairs

By M. Willow

Part Two

**Chapter 5**

Napoleon and April were enjoying a quiet evening in their favorite French restaurant. April seemed relaxed and spoke animatedly about how happy she was for Illya who was visiting Carolyn in Chicago. Carolyn was a woman the Russian had met a few months ago. The relationship had started on rocky ground but now the dour Russian had actually seemed to be falling in love with the woman, spending every moment he had with her in her hometown of Chicago.

Now the soothing sounds of Mozart filled the air as Napoleon regarded his friend. She had dyed her hair jet black in stark contrast to her pale skin. Napoleon still had problems accepting the change—it was an indication that he would be losing his friend soon. April locked eyes with Napoleon and he saw the sadness reflected in her brown eyes.

"Penny for your thoughts," Solo said quietly.

"That's about how I feel. Napoleon, I can't even walk like her, let along be like her. I'm never going to fool anyone, least of all Abrams."

"Maybe it's because you're afraid."

April looked at Napoleon, stunned for a few seconds. "Maybe you're right," she said somberly.

"Listen. It's not too late to back out. You can tell Waverly to find someone else."

"I can't. It's hard to explain, but I've got to do this one."

April locked eyes with Napoleon. "I need for you to take me someplace."

"Where?" he asked.

"To Vixen's apartment. It's time I confronted my demons."

**Chapter 6**

April strode around the large expanse of Vixen's sunken living room. It was a penthouse apartment decorated with expensive furnishings and original art work. April lovingly touched the items in the living room as she spoke.

"Did you know that Vixen's parents deserted her at an early age."

"Yes, I believe her father left before she was born and Vixens mother left her when she was a teenager." Napoleon said.

"She survived the only way she knew how... By the time she was fifteen, she'd discovered that she could get anything with her looks, so she did."

April headed to the bedroom, Napoleon following.

The bedroom was decorated in vintage 1940s style from the large king-sized bed decorated in satin and lace to the flowery bedside tables. Near the window sat a vanity. Vixen had neatly laid out numerous lipsticks in shades of red along with foundation and blush. The smell of Vixen's perfume still permeated the air. April examined each item as she spoke.

"Last year, I started working with a man who is an expert in meditation."

Napoleon took a seat on the bed. "You never told me that."

"I didn't tell anyone. I did it because… well you remember when Illya was locked behind that wall in the Victorian house. And then that horrible Thrush plot that almost cost you your life later that year?"

Napoleon visibly shuddered. "I don't think I can ever forget it."

"Well. I blamed myself for it. If I had listened to my instincts, things may have gone a little differently."

Napoleon rose from the bed and took April in his arms. "You know that's not true. If it hadn't been for you, Illya would have died and I know I couldn't have survived without you."

April broke from the embrace, touching Solo's face. "You're sweet for saying that, but I could have done so much more." April turned and continued her exploration of the bedroom, finally sitting in a large chair decorated in the same color pattern as the bedspread.

"I went to this Yogi. He's an expert in meditation and yoga. He taught me how to maximize my gift. Really use it." April took a deep breath and continued. "He taught me how to meditate. How to see the world as it actually is with all its dimensions. I can cast my mind back and see the past. I can see things that are happening now. My particular gift is called clairvoyance. I'm still limited and I need to feel a strong emotional bond to the subject." April locked eyes with Napoleon who took a seat on the bed. "I feel that way about Vixen. She was really alone you know. People only saw her for what they could get from her. No one really cared about her for herself. I can understand that feeling."

"You know that I love you, don't you?" Napoleon asked quickly.

April smiled, "Of course I do. But I'm talking about the past, Napoleon. I know I've never spoken to you about my parents. It's difficult for me to talk about them. My father is a successful attorney. I wanted for nothing when I was growing up. Old money.

My father was stern with me. He expected me to be a society lady, get married, have a family. He didn't believe that women should be assertive or even have opinions for that matter. For the most part, I tried to live up to his expectations. I went to a prestigious women's college. When I was twenty, I became engaged to a man from society. I didn't love him, but my father deemed him acceptable. Eventually I realized that I was living my father's life, not mine, so I broke off the engagement and came to New York. My father broke all ties with me. He even refused to let my mother contact me. I haven't heard from them in years."

April closed her eyes as she continued. "I came to realize that my father never loved me. Not truly. Love should be unconditional. His never was. I was no more that a trophy to him. Something to be taken out and bragged about. That is until I wanted to live my own life."

"I'm sorry, April, I never knew."

"I wasn't exactly proud to tell anyone. It was far easier to pretend they didn't exist. But I miss them sometimes. Around the holidays, especially." April paused and the two agents sat in companionable silence for a moment.

"He never cared how I supported myself. Never checked to see how I was doing. It hurt at first. And then I felt nothing."

April paused, her hands moved nervously in her lap. "The first year was the hardest. I hadn't majored in anything that could possibly get me a decent job. The few jobs I found always ended in the men offering me a better life in return for my favors so I quit. A few times I was tempted. I didn't want to go back home. I couldn't go back to that life. At least becoming a mistress would have allowed me some degree of freedom. After all, married men still had obligations to their family."

April locked eyes with Napoleon as she spoke. "And then UNCLE came along and I met you. But sometimes I wonder…If I hadn't…If my life had gone differently. If a few more months had passed…if I hadn't met my best friend."

April looked away. "I need to become Vixen. I need to enter her life and feel what she felt."

"I don't like it," Napoleon said.

"It's the only way. I've read her dossier. There is so much in her life that reminds me of my life. No, not the events exactly. But the feelings. The constant need for love. The hopelessness of not finding it. Crying yourself to sleep at night because you're such a dismal failure. Don't you see? Vixen thought she had found it with Abrams. He was the only man who didn't want her for her body. But it was a lie. He wanted her to be his entertainment. He took pleasure in watching her with other men. Even providing them. He was the one who made the introductions. In the end, he used her more than any other man."

"Coxton must have loved her." Napoleon said slowly.

"I've listened to Coxton talk about her. She confided in him in the way women do with their hairdressers sometimes. I guess he knew her better than anyone. But love, no. She was his muse, nothing more. He designed clothes for her. She put his name on the map."

Napoleon regarded April silently. April closed her eyes as if she were picturing Vixen sitting in the room with them.

"My God, Napoleon. I've got to do something for her." April said quietly.

"But she's dead. There's nothing you can do for her now."

"I can make sure her life meant something." April shouted, her eyes blazing. "I need to see her life now. I didn't think I could before. I guess Waverly was right. I was fighting this. But I'm ready now. Ready to be her."

"I don't like it. Tell Waverly to find someone else."

"We could have been twins. I'm the only one who can do this and you know it."

"Plastic surgery. Hell, it worked for Thrush."

"No. I'm the only one who can do this. And I need you."

Napoleon walked across the room and took a seat on the edge of April's chair. He put a protective hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know what I will do if something happened to you. I'm asking you to walk away from this. Vixen is dead and there is nothing you can do to make her life better."

April touched Solo's hand. "Please. I need to do this, but I can't do this alone."

Napoleon stood, pacing the room. April looked expectantly at him.

"What do you need for me to do?" Napoleon asked.

"I need to feel Vixen's presence. I may need to go deep in order to do that. I may need for you to bring me back."

"I don't like it. I never understood your gift, but it scares me."

"It scares me too. That's why I spent so many years in denial. But maybe, all these years has been for this day. For Vixen."

Napleon closed his eyes for a moment, then stared intently at her. "It's against my better judgment." He said quietly.

"Thanks," April said simply then sat back in the chair, closing her eyes. Napoleon returned and sat on the bed.

Both agents sat in companionable silence as April sank into the trance.

**Chapter 7**

Napoleon was becoming concerned. It had been nearly an hour and April still sat in the chair with her eyes closed. He would have believed her to be asleep had it not been for her steady, deliberate breathing. And then she opened her eyes and looked at him. No, through him. It was like the time in the Victorian house when she had awakened from a dream and walked through the house totally oblivious to her surroundings. She was in another world.

April stood and walked around the room, her hands gliding over the items that were part of Vixen's life only a few weeks ago. She ignored Solo, walking around him as if he were a piece of furniture. Finally, she stood before the mirrored vanity. April looked intently at her reflection. Napoleon noted the confusing in her eyes as she seated herself and picked up the ornate brush. Napoleon recalled Vixen's fondness for old 1940s movies as April changed the style of her hair into a style reminiscent of Veronica Lake.

April then proceeded to apply the makeup. She paid special attention to the eyes which she lined in heavy black. Next she applied the blush with steady strokes, bringing out her exquisite cheekbones. Finally she added red lipstick. Now she sat back and smiled, her eyes wandering to Napoleon.

It was the eyes that made Solo take a shuddering breath. If the eyes were the mirror to the soul, then April's eyes reflected her compassion and love. He had seen those eyes when she was afraid. He had seen those eyes when the pressure of the job became overwhelming. Now he saw the cold eyes of a woman hardened by life. They were the eyes of a woman who found life lacking in every way. They were the eyes of a woman who took sexual pleasure as a replacement for love. The woman Napoleon loved more than life itself was gone. In her place sat a woman who had died weeks ago on a cold October day. Napoleon watched as this woman stood and acknowledged his presence. She slithered toward him, her smile predatory. "Ready? I want to get out of here, we've an assignment to tend to." The voice belonged to Vixen. A cold shudder went up Solo's spine as he took her hand and left the apartment.

**Chapter 8**

The strong winds of October buffeted Napoleon as he strode into UNCLE headquarters. Illya was standing at the door, an angry look on his face. He had been called back to New York, a full week ahead of schedule. Waverly had deemed it necessary to have a third agent on this case because he felt that April and Napoleon would be under too much scrutiny from the voyeuristic Abrams.

Now, the blond agent barely acknowledged Solo's presence as they marched toward Waverly's office.

"So, how was your time with Carolyn?" Napoleon asked conversationally.

"Too, short," the Russian added tersely. "Why couldn't Mark or someone else have handled this assignment?"

"It was your extraordinary skills that did you in, dear fellow," Napoleon teasingly said. "You see, few agents have your excellent safe cracking abilities."

Illya sighed as they approached Waverly's door. "Mark could have handled this. How often do I get a chance to spend time with Carolyn as it is?"

Napoleon patted the Russian on the back. "I know. But it will soon be over and you can get back to whatever you were doing."

Illya sighed as they entered Waverly's office.

The old man was sitting at the large circular table with Coxton. Coxton was dressed in a purple silk shirt with white pants. He looked miserable as he spoke.

"I tell you Mr. Waverly, no way is this April person ever going to be Vixen. I've tried for two weeks, almost three. It is an impossible task you gave me. You've given me cement to mold into a work of art. It can't be done. It simply can't be done"

Illya and Napoleon both took seats at the table as Coxton continued. "Find another girl. I'm telling you…."

"We both know April is the only one who bears a resemblance to Miss McCall. There's no time to use plastic surgery and then train another woman to do the job. No, Miss Dancer will just have to do." Waverly said.

Coxton sat back heavily in his chair. "So where is our dear Miss Dancer? I thought she was supposed to be here an hour early so you could see for yourself the fruitlessness of this endeavor."

Waverly looked at his watch. "Most uncharacteristic. Miss Dancer is never late."

Coxton laughed. "Almost three weeks of working with her and the only thing she's got right is coming late."

Napoleon spoke. "I saw Ap…Miss Dancer last night. I think you will be pleased at the work you've done Mr. Coxton."

"That will be the day," Coxton tersely replied.

At that moment, the door opened to reveal the breathtaking site of April Dancer. She was dressed in a short, black skin-tight, leather mini skirt with a black plunging top. The outfit left nothing to the imagination. Napoleon had to remind himself that it was indeed April. Illya nearly chocked.

April slinked into the room. Slink was the only word that could describe the way she walked. It was sexy, seductive, a gait that could make any man's heart stop. Solo could just imagine the looks on the men's faces as April walked down the conservative halls of UNCLE. April sat down at the table and lifted a jewel cigarette holder into her hands. . April lit her cigarette as she regarded each man if she were selecting from breeding stock.

The room was tense as Mr. Waverly looked at the young female agent. "Miss Dancer, you're late."

April laughed before turning her attention to Waverly. Napoleon was shocked as he witness April actually flirting with the old man. "Of course. I take it you don't like it." She said teasingly, her voice husky.

Napoleon had never seen Waverly blush. The old man sought his pipe, lighting it with shaky hands. Napoleon looked at Coxton, who sat proudly in his chair, obviously enjoying the presence of his masterpiece.

"It seems that Mr. Coxton was being modest when he spoke of you, Miss Dancer." Waverly said, looking at April.

"Dear Coxie was always that way," April said, still sounding like Vixen.

Napoleon noticed how comfortable April seemed in her role as Vixen. The previous night, April had explained that she would be using the Method form of acting. This method involved total immersion into a character. Some actors stayed in character even when they were not filming. Actors such as Marlon Brando and James Dean had practiced this method with critical success. Now Napoleon watched the Vixen character as she smoked her cigarette. Even the mannerisms were different. Solo schooled his emotions to focus on April, not Vixen.

"You've got it. You sound like her, you walk like her. Heck, even the expression of the eyes are the same. No one would know the difference, not even her closest acquaintances. Fantastic, simply fantastic." Coxton said excitedly.

"So how are we going to convince Abrams that April is indeed Vixen? The last time he heard anything, Vixen was dead." Illya asked, looking at Waverly.

"Simple. We have let it be known that the rumors of Miss McCall's death were simply that, rumors. It seems Miss McCall recovered in the hospital." Waverly said.

"But, someone must have visited her. Someone who would know just how bad her injuries were." Illya said.

"It seems Miss McCall had no visitors and our Miss Dancer's appearance will certainly dispel any rumors that may still persist amongst her acquaintances." Waverly answered.

Napoleon didn't like the sound of that. They had been assured that April would meet only Abrams on the island. Now it sounded like the old man was talking about other people being there.

"Sir," Napoleon said, clearing his throat. "It sounds like there will be other people on the Island."

"Yes," Waverly said, taking a draw from his pipe. "Most unfortunate. It is one of the reasons I recalled Mr. Kuryakin. It seems Mr. Abrams has decided to have a party to celebrate Miss McCall's return to the living. A lot of people will be expected. Assuredly, some of these people will be intimate acquaintances of Miss McCall's."

"Well, I don't like it. Surely you don't think April can fool a room full of people?" Solo said angrily.

"Look at her Mr. Solo. What do you think?" Waverly asked.

Solo regarded the dark-haired woman seated across from him. Her mannerisms were not April. The throaty voice was not April. The walk was not April. But most of all, April would never look at him the way she was looking now. Solo felt an uncomfortable as he realized that April was actually flirting with him. In fact, she was flirting with the entire room.

Solo cleared his throat, "You're right, sir. There is nothing about her that reminds me of April."

Two hours later, Napoleon was sitting in his shared office with Illya. Illya was concerned about the uncharacteristically quiet Napoleon. The American was sitting at his desk pretending to read a report.

"Are you okay, my friend?" Illya asked.

"How am I going to make it through this one, Tovarish?" Napoleon said quietly, his hand massaging his temples.

"You will do it because it has to be done."

"I sat there looking at her and didn't know who the hell I was looking at."

"I know," Illya said. "Mr. Waverly told me about the affair before I arrived so I knew what to expect. Yet nothing prepared me for seeing April. It was like looking at a different woman."

"She actually flirted with me. Did you see her?" Napoleon said incredulously.

"Yes. But you have to realize she was acting. In the Method school of acting….."

Solo slammed his hand down on the desk, his eyes glaring. "I know about the method school. But… but… I don't like it. I want her to drop this case. Drop it now, before it's too late and I can't help her."

Illya walked to Solo's desk and sat on the edge. "There is something you're not telling me. What is it?"

Napoleon regarded his friend. Illya was Napoleon's best friend. He was blessed in that regard—he had two best friends. Still, this was April's business. Napoleon considered the possibilities of the situation. He realized that if something happened to him the Russian may be the only person who could help her. He slowly told Illya what had transpired at the apartment the night before.

"So you see, she may not be acting. She went into a trance and I saw her change before my eyes. What if….what if….this Vixen has somehow…."

"Possessed her?" Illya added. "No, my friend. April merely used this meditative technique to gain an understanding of her life."

"You sound like you know something about this meditative technique," Napoleon asked, looking expectantly at Illya.

"I'm familiar with it. It's a harmless technique that allows the person to focus their attention. It has been used for over five-thousand years."

Napoleon took a deep breath and let it out slowly, "If something were to happen to me…."

"I'll be there to make sure nothing happens to anyone," Illya said, putting a reassuring hand on Solo's shoulder.

Napoleon locked eyes with his friend. They had saved each others lives on many occasions. Now, Solo realized that both of them might be the only thing that could get April through this one. Napoleon relaxed, the tension flowing from his body.

"I believe we have an Island to get to." And with that he picked up the telephone and made travel arrangements.


	3. Part 3

The Vixen Affairs

By M. Willow

Part Three

**Chapter 9**

The Island of Serene, as Abrams called it, was beautiful with its lush flowers, abundant trees, and exotic birds. The island was a virtual paradise. The scent of exotic flowers wafted on the wings of gentile breezes. Vixen had told Abrams that she was bringing two male companions with her. Abrams had not seemed surprised and extended the invitation to include her male companions as well.

Solo was posing as a playboy named Nathan Stone. While Illya was pretending to be a photographer named Francois Delacroix. The photographer cover would allow the blond agent to freely roam the island taking pictures. Vixen had told Abrams that Illya was a photographer with a prestigious French magazine that wanted photographs of his island paradise. Abrams readily agreed, excited to have his island gracing the pages of an international magazine.

Abrams sent his yatch to pick up the three agents. The agents now sat in the comfortable limousine as it traveled up the winding road to the house. Illya sat across from his two friends and regarded them cautiously. April was wearing a skin-tight red dress with an indecently plunging neckline. She sat very close to Napoleon, her hands wandering up his thigh. It was an odd picture. Illya was use to seeing the affection between his two American friends. Napoleon and April had always been physical with one another, but not in a sexual way. Now April's touches were sexual. Illya watched as April stroked Napoleon's thigh. The female agent didn't seem to mind Illya's presence as she continued the intimate touches. It was becoming embarrassing to sit in the car with them. Napoleon was playing along with it. He had no choice, the cameras were everywhere. Only someone who knew him as well as the Russian would be able to tell just how uncomfortable he really was. Illya cursed Waverly for putting his friends in this situation. Surely any other agent could have acted as April's lover in this affair. Even he could have done the job. Still, Illya was aware that Waverly seldom did things without carefully assessing the situation.

Illya averted his gaze and watched the road. Soon the house loomed in the distance. It resembled a castle with its white and gold coloring against the clear blue sky. It was fortunate Vixen had never visited the island. It could have been a problem if April had been expected to know her way around the estate.

Within minutes the limousine stopped and the three agents got out. Illya admired the lush flowers that surrounded the house as they followed the chauffer inside. It was no surprise to discover the foyer was decorated entirely in white. A butler escorted the agents into the exquisitely appointed drawing room. It was also decorated in white except for the gold inlaid fireplace. The agents took seats on the French Provencal furniture and sat in companionable silence. April was looking around the room admiring the paintings on the wall when Walter Abrams entered the room. He was a large man with a shock of brown hair tinged with grey. His face was round with drooping eyelashes that distracted from his penetrating blue eyes. Abrams walked with the air of someone who was used to getting his way. Now he approached April. The female agent stood expectantly as Abrams eyes traveled down the length of her body.

Illya eyed the scene nervously. Did Abrams know the woman he was looking at was an imposter? Soon this suspicion was allayed when Abrams grabbed April and kissed her passionately. April returned the kiss. Illya wondered if the intel Waverly had received concerning Abrams was incorrect. This did not seem like a man who lacked interest in the opposite sex. Napoleon stood abruptly, heading for the couple. Illya moved quickly to stop Napoleon from prematurely ending their mission. Now was not the time to antagonize the host. The kiss went on for some time and then Abrams broke the embrace, regarding the two agents that stood before him. He turned his attention back to April, touching her face as he spoke, "You must be Vixen's newest companion,' Abrams said without looking at either man.

Solo walked forward, offering his hand. His eyes were steely as he awaited the handshake. Abrams spared a glance in Napoleon's direction, offering his hand as Napoleon introduced himself. "Yes. I'm Nathan Stone and this is François Delacroix," he said indicating Illya.

Abrams smiled. "Well, my house is your house." He indicated a servant who walked quietly into the room. "Please see to their luggage." He looked at Vixen. "Will both men stay in your room?" he asked with a sly smile.

April laughed seductively. "Now, Walter. You know I do have some rules."

Abrams laughed. "Well, a man can have his fantasies."

Napoleon and April were busy unpacking their bags. They had already checked the room for listening devices with an electronic scanner. They were surprised to discover the room was not bugged. Unfortunately, they discovered several hidden cameras. They would have to be careful if they wanted to convince Abrams of their romantic relationship.

There was an uncomfortable silence as the agents unpacked. Napoleon was doing his best to avoid Vixen's gaze. He couldn't remember when he had started to think of April as Vixen, but it had happened. He watched her move about the room. Again the room was decorated in white-on-white shades from curtains to rug. He eyed the bed. How could he ever sleep in the same bed with her? It was true, they had done so on occasion in the past. Most notably, when April first came to the Victorian house and had become so uncharacteristically unnerved. But that had been different. They had been two people offering comfort to each other. Now they would have to pretend to be lovers.

Napoleon was so deep in thought that he almost startled when he heard her voice.

"I'm still me, you know." April said.

Napoleon looked at her and saw the vulnerability in her face. He reached for her taking her in his arms. If Abrams had been looking, he would have seen a lovers embrace, but this was far from that.

"I thought I had lost you." Napoleon said his voice low.

"Never," April said. "But this is the last time I can be me. I need to be Vixen completely… while I'm here."

"I know."

The agents returned to unpacking their luggage.

Dinner was served in the dining and consisted of broiled shrimp and rice pilaf. Illya had excused himself, citing the need to take pictures of the house at sunset. Abrams was having a maddening conversation about his latest investments. He spoke endlessly about how he was going to become even richer. April looked bored and it concerned Napoleon. He didn't want Abrams to become angry and jeopardize the entire mission. Solo had tried to catch the female agent's eyes, but April never looked in his direction.

Abrams looked at April expectantly. "So how did you survive such a horrendous car accident, Vixen?"

"I've the luck of the devil. You know how that goes."

"You're not angry that I didn't come to see you in the hospital are you?"

"If you'd have shown up, I might have died from the shock." April said smiling at Abrams.

Abrams laughed heartily and scooped a shrimp into his mouth.

April was in full Vixen mode now, the voice harsh, almost cruel. She looked at Abrams seductively in spite of her obvious hatred of the man.

"Well. I intend to make it up to you." Abrams said. "You're gonna love it. All your friends will be here. Just think. Your ex-lovers all here, under one roof. It's going to be a reunion of sorts. All civilized of course."

"Why would you think I'd want to see a bunch of leeches who wouldn't even come and see me in the hospital?"

Abrams cleared his throat and then laughed, his whole body shaking with the effort. He looked at Napoleon. "Our Vixen. Such a kidder."

The man continued to shove food into his mouth, oblivious to April's hatred of him.

"It will be nice to see all my friends. Especially since they were too busy to visit me in the hospital." April said sarcastically.

April was angry and not bothering to hide it. Abrams continued to laugh as if the whole thing was part of an act.

"Don't you just love her? She's so funny. "Abrams said, looking at Solo.

His laughter seemed cruel. Napoleon was having problems controlling his temper. Here was a man laughing at the pain a young woman suffered in the hospital.

"Vixen has been through a lot, and should rest" Napoleon said. "Perhaps we should retire for the night…"

"Vixen, retire. Before three o'clock. Your friend is even funnier than you are." Abrams laughed, coughing on his food.

Napoleon stood suddenly. He was finding it difficult to sit in the same room with the man. Abrams was acting as if the whole thing was just a play, put on for his benefit.

"Wait till your friends see you. They're gonna love this act of yours. So funny. So funny."

April stood abruptly and crossed the room to Abrams. She grabbed him by the lapels, pulling him from his seat. The large man's eyes bulged in shock, the silly grin still plastered to his face.

"I'm glad you like it, darling. There's more where that came from." April said, an evil glint in her eyes. She kissed him soundly and exited the room, Napoleon following her, the sound of Abrams laughter echoing as they walked.

Napoleon was standing in the bedroom with April. She seemed calm as though the evening with Abrams had never occurred. Napoleon noted the bed had been turned down. He imagined the fat man sitting in his room about to enjoy the show. Solo was disgusted. Napoleon didn't like the idea of someone watching him even under normal circumstances and this was far from normal. He was about to make love to his best friend.

Solo moved toward April and took her in his arms. His lips sought hers as they kissed passionately. Solo kept telling himself that it was Vixen he was kissing, not April. He had been with many women, had never found a woman who did not arouse him, yet this felt incestuous. This was his best friend. His hands explored her body almost mechanically. Soon they were sitting on the bed and she took off his shirt. Vixen was in complete control as she threw Solo back on the bed and straddled him. She started to slowly unbutton her blouse. Napoleon quickly moved her beneath him, covering them with the bed spread in one fluid motion. He may have to pretend to be her lover, but there was no way he was going to actually make love to her or let Abrams see her body.

The night went by slowly as the two agents pretended to make love.

The next two days went by quickly. Abrams didn't appear suspicious of April. He seemed too enthralled by her act to notice any slips the female agent may have made. April flirted openly with the servants a fact that worried Napoleon. He was turning into the protective big brother, but he couldn't seem to help himself. He didn't want April to have to live with something she had done under the guise of Vixen. He stayed close to her pretending to be the jealous lover.

Illya was busy exploring the estate. The Russian continued to take pictures. He smiled as he thought how ridiculous it was to have colored film for an all white house. Illya had taken pictures of most of the house. Now there was only one area left—the lower level. Abrams had originally forbidden exploration of this level saying that it was uninteresting. Illya had stressed the need to get the feel of the entire house even if it didn't appear in the magazine. Abrams had finally consented, telling the agent that some areas were off limits and should not be photographed. He told him the guards would see to it that he did not wander into these areas.

The Russian took comfort in knowing the mission would soon be over. All he had to do was find the restricted area and the code would surely be there. It didn't take long. He was on the lower level of the white house when he saw two guards standing in front of a door. Illya quickly took pictures and approached the guards. The men instantly took a protective stance and told him that he was in a restricted area. Illya didn't find another guarded room. Yes, it was going to be easy.

The next day was warm and sunny. Illya was sitting patiently on a bench which overlooked the ocean. The light scent of flowers blended with the smell of salt water. A warm breeze blew the leaves of the many trees that surrounded the island causing the colorful birds to skitter into the air. The party was being held tonight in the grand ballroom of the house. He and Napoleon thought it was the best time to steal the key since the house would be full of people. Illya discovered that most of the guest would arrive by airplane on the small airfield adjacent to the property. Illya had arranged for the UNCLE jet to pick them up after they had secured the key.

Illya observed the slow approach of Napoleon. They had decided to meet there to make plans for the night. Illya hadn't spent much time with his two friends since their arrival. Now he looked forward to the ending of the mission. It was having a horrible effect on both of his friends. Napoleon reached the bench and sat down heavily. He looked drawn and depressed. Both agents sat in companionable silence as they observed the quiet waters of Serene Island.

"How are you, my friend?" Illya asked, breaking the silence.

"About as well as can be expected of a man who has spent the last two nights making love to his best friend."

"It had to be done. It will be over tonight." Illya said looking at his friend who sat sullenly to his side.

"In answer to your question. Nothing happened." Napoleon said.

"I was not asking." Illya said sadly, patting his friend on the back.

"Sorry. It hasn't been the easiest assignment." Napoleon said, rubbing his head.

"I know, but it will soon be over. We will have the key tonight."

"So how do you plan to get into the safe?"

"I'll knock the guards out with a drug that I plan to put in some coffee. There's a party tonight. It will be pretty easy to convince them that Mr. Abrams sent the coffee down to make sure they stay alert." Illya sighed, stretching his legs.

"You know the hall has video cameras. Heck, I don't think there's a spot on this island that doesn't have video cameras. No doubt someone will be observing the hall." Napoleon said.

"Yes. I've thought of that. Yesterday, I sat up a camera recording the activities of the hall. The guards are just standing there. They never move, sort of like the palace guards in England. I now have a few hours of film, more than needed for me to retrieve the key and for us to get off this island."

Napoleon smiled. "Sly Russian. So what will you need for April and I to do."

"Put on another show for our host. I don't want him coming downstairs. We need to keep Abrams at the party until I have the code. I understand Vixen was quite demonstrative with her lovers. And she didn't care how many people were looking."

"Are you suggesting…. That…" Napoleon stuttered.

"Not that demonstrative, Napoleon. No just do a little necking on the floor. Keep Abrams tantalized. It will also keep some of Vixen's friends from asking questions she may not be able to answer. Keep her on the dance floor till we're ready to go."

Napoleon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He stood, looking at Illya. "Anything to get out of here tonight. I don't think I can stomach another night here."

"It will end tonight. Tomorrow we'll be sitting on the porch of the Victorian house drinking lemonade. You'll see."

Napoleon turned and headed back to the house. It was going to be an interesting party.

The party was held in the grand ballroom of the estate. Unlike the rest of the house, the grand ballroom was decorated in black and white colors. A large black, Baby Grand piano sat on the stage of the ballroom with a band playing the soft strains of Brazilian inspired music. Couples sat at three large tables enjoying a sumptuous feast. April had insisted on arriving late because Vixen was never known to arrive at a party on time.

All eyes were on April as they entered the ballroom. April was an astounding beauty with her sexy, black evening gown. The gown was daring with a revealing slit on the side. It was low-cut to the point of being indecent. Every man's eyes followed the couple as they sat at the table. Napoleon was debonair in a black tux. The conversation at the table revolved around Vixen's return to the living. The people at the table seemed snobbish as they laughed at April's witty remarks. It was obvious to Napoleon that Vixen was the entertainment of the evening.

The evening progressed slowly. No one seemed to notice that April was an imposter, they were to busy laughing at her. Soon the plates were collected and couples started to dance. Napoleon glimpsed Abrams observing them from across the table. The man was looking with lust at the female agent, living vicariously through her antics. Men lined-up to dance with April. She danced with each, a little to close for Napoleons comfort. Napoleon kept a watchful eye on his friend.

The music stopped for a moment and then soft strains of Misty Roses started as April walked seductively toward Napoleon. Her eyes were ablaze, sexy, inviting. The men openly eyed her as she approached the table. Solo was vaguely aware of the music. It was a Bossa Nova and April's hips swayed in time to the music. Her hands were outstretched as she beckoned him to the dance floor. "Dance with me, lover," she said in the husky voice of Vixen.

Napoleon stood and moved in time to the music, April's hips swaying as he took her in his arms. They were dancing dangerously close, almost indecent. Napoleon noticed Abrams sitting at the table. He couldn't keep his eyes off April. April locked eyes with Napoleon and edged her lips toward his. They kissed passionately, oblivious to the stares of the people in the ball room.

Illya had knocked the guards out and now stood in the tiny room they had been guarding. He was safe, the video camera showing a constant film of the two guards who were safely out of the picture. He searched the room with the small penlight he was carrying. It was easy to find the safe. It was behind a portrait of Vixen on the wall. Illya moved toward the safe and sat about opening it. Within minutes he was in the safe. Illya found the key in a notebook. He left the room and headed for his room where he changed into a tux. They had at least an hour before the film ran out and he needed to alert his friends that the mission had been accomplished.

Illya could hear the soft strains of music as he entered the ballroom. He eyed Napoleon kissing April on the floor. They were necking like a couple of teenagers in full view of everyone, yet acted as if they were the only two people in the room. Very convincing the Russian noted. Illya found a rather plan girl who obviously wanted to dance and edged her toward the floor. He neared the two agents and signaled his presence. After the song ended, the agents left the floor and returned to their table. Within minutes all three excused themselves and left the party.

**Chapter 10**

It was two hours later and all three agents sat on the plane headed back to UNCLE headquarters. Illya sat on one side of the plane facing his two friends. April was looking out the window. She had been quiet since leaving the party.

Solo was concerned. "April, it's over. We have the key."

"How does that matter to me?" She said in the haughty voice of Vixen.

"You can stop being Vixen," Napoleon commanded.

"What if I don't want to?" Now Napoleon was really worried. He hadn't considered this. He locked eyes with Illya.

"I want my friend back. I'm not going to let this Vixen persona prevent that," Napoleon said determinedly.

"April, calm yourself. Let her go. You're April. You have people who love you." Illya said. "Pull yourself back."

Napoleon took April's hands, looking directly into her brown eyes.

"I want my friend back I need my friend back."

April stared at Napoleon, tears starting to form in her eyes.

"I don't know how," She said with a shaking voice.

Napoleon held, her rocking her, listening to the soft sobs until she slept in his arms.

**Two Weeks later:**

The mission had been somewhat successful. The agents had retrieved the key, but discovered that Abrams had not been entirely honest about his success. He had only deciphered a small part of the code. UNCLE had only been able to discover the location of a few satraps. They had been destroyed leaving Waverly only slightly disappointed.

It had been a difficult time for April. Waverly had consented to letting his agents spend time at the Victorian house. The old man seemed to understand what the mission had cost the female agent.

April's recovery was long and painful. She had nightmares that were so real that she refused to sleep. The nightmares were always about the final days of Vixen's life. In each nightmare April tried to save the young woman but she always failed in the end. Eventually Napoleon slept in a chair in her room. Only then did she sleep. Illya had stayed with the agents until he was called back for a mission. With Solo's help, April eventually reclaimed her life.

Now the two agents sat together on the swing on the porch of the Victorian house. April sat leaning with her back to Napoleon, his arms encircling her. They had decided to sit on the porch in the early morning hours of November to view the sun as it rose. Now they observed its ascent against the sky. The crisp morning air made April snuggle closer to Napoleon.

"Are we okay?" April asked in the quiet voice that was uniquely hers.

Napoleon pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. "Yes we are. In fact, I think this makes us stronger."

"You know, if things had been different, that could easily have been me lying in that grave."

"You could never have been like Vixen. You're strong, determined."

"It's easy to make the wrong choices. Maybe if I hadn't become an UNCLE agent and met you."

Napoleon pulled her closer. "Somehow we would have met,"

The agents sat in silence as the sky continued to lighten.

"I couldn't have made it back without you," April said.

"I will always be there for you,"

"She had no one in the end. Everyone loved her when she was the fun loving girl, but when she needed them, I mean really needed them…" April said in an unsteady voice.

Napoleon kissed the top of April's head.

"I want to visit her grave. Someone should bring her flowers." April said in a shaky voice.

The two agents sat in silence as the sky brightened into a watercolor display of blue and white. Napoleon tightened his arms around April against the cool, November breeze. For this moment in time, all that existed was the porch, the sun, and a never-ending friendship.

Fin

Author notes:

The character of Carolyn was introduced in the story Insatiable also available on The story is rated M so it is necessary to change the rating on your story list to see M rated stories.

The Victorian House was introduced in the story Victorian House.

As usual, I love feedback, so tell me what you think.


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